


High Strung

by timeloan



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Anal Sex, Bottom Killua Zoldyck, Cock Rings, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, Fluff and Smut, Gonkillu - Freeform, M/M, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shibari, Smut, Top Gon Freecs, Vibrators, guess who tops, is this feelings idk, some very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeloan/pseuds/timeloan
Summary: This was an insular activity for them, opening doors and shifting perspectives into this unexplored territory between just the two of them. For Killua, it's growing accustomed vulnerability. For Gon, it's learning the odds and ends of patience and practice. Together, it's a new form of intimacy.Or-- Killua wants to be tied up and Gon is happy to entertain.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 14
Kudos: 99





	High Strung

**Author's Note:**

> S/o to my incredibly talented beta thatonepeach They are an incredible writer and always keep me on my toes. 
> 
> Basically, Killua get's plowed like a field. If you're just here for the porn, it starts directly after the first piece of dialogue. I should mention that I age them up in all of my fics, always make an effort to mention it, but I guess I could do better about developing maturity and all that jazz. Perhaps one day, I will intentionally go into detail.

The searing slide of Gon’s chest against his back has been a long time in the making, the product of many conversations, careful planning, intricately laid boundaries, almost as carefully tied as the ropes that bind Killua’s arms. They’re as firm, and unmoving as Gon, who holds him to his chest now, rooted to the carpet as Killua’s mind flies, rushing over every detail, never wanting to forget the unyielding pull and strain of his muscles. Of course, he’d already tested the rope against his own strength— who would he be, otherwise. He longs to familiarize himself with each and every one of his limitations, cataloging them so this can go smoothly, so that he can get what he wants, so that he can always be brainlessly confident in Gon’s abilities. That’s something he once thought impossible, but now as his own excitable skin rests against Gon, growing accustomed to the carefully wrapped patterns that hold him still, bind him to himself, he feels like he’s meeting his body for the first time again, amazed by its flexibility and enthralled by just how trusting he is in his lover’s arms. 

Gon is patient, eerily so because usually it’s him who is the most excitable, the most eager of the two. He lost his erection ages ago, content just to hold Killua as he adjusts to the wet, ovular plug in his ass, the ropes kissing his skin in taut fashion. He triple checks the knot hugging the bottom of Killua’s sternum although he knows very well that it won’t budge at this point. Killua opens his eyes, shyly regarding the mirror set in front of him. He’s already studied every inch of flesh wrapped in delicate blue that nearly matches the muted blue of his veins, emphasizing the paleness of his abdomen, and complimenting the ruddy pinks that color his skin. The rope took forever to find, even longer to soften, custom made for their play at Gon’s insistence; he’d wanted blue. Killua didn’t care, more focused on the play by play than the specific shape or color of a harness. 

Once again, they’d reversed their usual behavior, but this was an insular activity for them, opening doors and shifting perspectives into this unexplored territory between just the two of them. For Killua, it’s trying on vulnerability, much like his harness, letting his person be molded into the likeness of someone else’s vision and trusting regardless of what he can understand. For Gon, abandoning his tendency towards carelessness for the sake of Killua’s pleasure, the sake of intimacy. This, he could easily get behind, happy to do whatever the blonde wanted, whenever, even if it meant his erection died like a quiet fire after a storm, still hot and smoking but no longer lit ablaze and untamable. He’s gaining lots of control as he ages which Killua admires more than he lets on. It still surprises him sometimes, how people can change so much within a year, hell, within a month. Gon shifts like the weather as he learns new things and experiences new events. It’s slow and somewhat unnoticeable at first— the first fallen leaf is often disregarded until they’re suddenly blooming reds and oranges and brilliant yellows and Killua is left wondering where spring went. But spring will be back just as summer and winter will. He doesn’t have to search too hard to find the evidence. 

He thinks he finds summer when Gon passes his nose over his ear soft and careful. He can feel the smile tugging at full lips. Whose lips? He doesn’t know, maybe both. 

“Water?” 

“Any more and I’ll have to pee and the hour we spent putting this all together will have been for nothing” 

“I can carry you?” Summer. It tastes so sweet on Gon. “It’s not like I haven’t touched your cock before.” Summer, it can be so cruel.

“No, I’m not letting you hold my dick while I pee.” 

“Does that mean you wouldn’t be into omorashi?” He doesn’t pronounce it quite right.

“I never said that.” Gon's eyes shoot up for the first time in what seems like hours. He stares at Killua through the framed mirror, eyes boring into the side of Killua’s face.

“One kink at a time,” Killua bites, mostly out of embarrassment. The way Gon looks at him, marveling yet again at just how many buried interests Killua has, provides inspiration for a fresh blush. Gon’s warm chest deflates into a quiet laugh, rumbling against Killu’s shoulder blades. Killua licks his lips, considering his words carefully, aware that he’s broken their meditation, aware of hot breath fanning across his skin, aware of his half chub, aware of all the fantasies he’d entertained relating to this moment, aware of what he wants Gon to do to him. Vocalizing it had been a painful process of downloading videos and late-night, wine-filled conversations as Killua explained his taboo fantasies in great detail; he wishes he had some wine now to encourage the more shameless parts of himself, but Gon would refuse without a doubt. Anyway, he supposes that it’s dangerous in theory, the threat of permanent nerve damage ringing clear in the back of his skull. He’s been through worse, but he also knows Gon would be upset at the mere idea of it. This fact scatters the nervousness suddenly building in his gut. He uses that momentum to pull him forward.

“I’m ready,” he decides, finally peeking at Gon through the glass, taking in the sight of thick palms soothing pale legs, raven hair pointed toward the ceiling. Simple words. Gon offers the simple pleasure of a smile in return. He checks Killua’s fingers methodically, moreso for sake of his own patience than doubt in his handiwork. He squeezes, and Killua squeezes back. 

“Vibe?” Killua nods. “Okay, on your knees then,” Gon says, hoisting Killua by the ass to help him maneuver, pinching at the globes because he can. His knees sink into the soft down they’d placed on the carpeting earlier, cock dangling toward the floor, his legs tucked beneath him. He breathes deeply, feeling his lungs expand, the blue decorations restricting him, hugging his upper chest, his waist. What little fat that clings to Killua’s muscles sits plump and glistening from the sheen of perspiration developing on Killua’s skin. Blood pools just below the bottom of his peck when skin greets rope, coloring the swelled mounds in plush, rosy pinks, making the flesh especially reactive to Gon’s touch. 

The slight friction causes him to gasp, the rope tight against the thinner skin of his thighs, shaping him with Gon’s design in mind. His gaze returns to the perfectly symmetrical diamonds decorating his torso, the strings of treated hemp lined just under his ass cheeks giving the illusion of roundness. This is how Gon wants him, arms married by pale blue knots and only the tiniest of wiggle room for his thighs; Gon wants him still and unmoving and vulnerable. Or rather, he requested such things from Gon and Gon happily obliged, slowly growing to love the idea just as much as Killua. He’d purchased books and even downloaded some videos of his own to show Killua. It relieved Killua to know that he wasn’t the only one who wanted this, that Gon would take the time to watch the ridiculously raunchy videos that made Killua’s fingers curl and his cock ache.

He still can’t believe Gon managed to master such intricate knots in such a short amount of time, but he doesn’t know why he doubts. Gon had experience tying knots before they even started this venture and practicing on both himself and Killua had helped much more than any book ever did. Killua often watched in quiet anticipation as he practiced with experienced fingers, sometimes mapping Killua’s muscles and joints, leaving him flushed and breathless. 

He tested portions of skin, specific knots, but never something this intricate, with this many knots. They’ve gotten off on the anticipation alone, the tight squeeze of Killua’s ass snuggly fitted against the practice rope as Gon sucked him off against any surface they could fall against. The knots were the easy part, however. Getting Gon to emulate a scene was not. He was still unpredictable at times— hot and cold like the weather. There were moments when he happily fucked Killua into submission, holding onto his white hair like a lifeline and moments when Gon grimaced at the mere suggestion of calling Killua out of his name. His lip upturned at particularly “hard-core” videos as if degrading words left a bad taste in his mouth. Calloused fingers trace the dips of his abdomen, making him shiver and bringing him back to the present. Killua sighs, wondering which season of Gon he’d find today.

“Do you want the blindfold?” Gon asks, massaging his arms, peppering his pallid skin with hot kisses that send butterflies up his sternum. 

“Not yet.” The idea of not having to watch Gon watch him make a mess all over himself sounds nice, but then he won’t be able to see Gon— the object of his affections. Gon remains behind Killua, toying with the plug in his ass. He pulls it out halfway before shoving it back in, listening to Killuas breathing hitch as he toys with a pink nipple carelessly. 

“I’m gonna take it out now,” he announces, resting a hand on Killua’s lower back. 

“You don’t have to tell me every little thing.” 

“I know, but I want to make sure you’re comfy.” 

“I’m very ‘comfy’.” Killua quotes, resisting the urge to shift his hips when Gon removes the plug entirely, placing it on a towel to the side of their mat. The absence is quickly filled with the silicon vibrator Gon had tucked into his own pants to keep warm. He knows how Killua feels about cold plastic. The head catches on Killua’s fluttering hole, already slicked with so much lube it covers the seam of his ass. He focuses on his breathing as Gon presses it slowly inside, clenching weakly when it's in and set against his prostate. 

“Would you rather I surprised you,” Gon asks him, still groping at the soft skin of his chest. Killua yearns to touch him back, to rub his cock against Gon's warmth and pull his hair, but he doesn’t struggle against the restraints even as Gon sinks his teeth into the hollow of his neck sucking until a fresh bruise develops, until its stinging and purple. A piece of control slips between his fingers when Gon grabs the remote, though, anticipation getting the better of him. His arms shift slightly. It’s not even an attempt to break free, really, more of a flinch. 

“Yes, actually.”

“Good because I wanna use this,” Gon adds, holding the black cock ring up so that Killua can see without having to strain. 

“Oh,” Killua breathes, looking at his whimsical purchase. He always imagined they’d use it on Gon, but it looks appealing now when he’s so needy after just a few touches. “I like that.”

His attempt at playing casual is quickly abandoned when Gon fastens the metal ring around his cock, stroking the head lazily, drawing labored breaths from Killua. He knows Gon knows just how to touch him and has been avoiding it anyway. They’re playing the long game, and he’s not sure what losing looks like in this case, he just knows he’s tightly wound, tense and eager. 

Vibrations pulse through him as soon as the cock ring is properly set. It’s the worst thing in the world, the harsh rattling against his sensitive insides in short bursts before leaving him with nothing, expectant, warm. Gon presses his chest against Killua’s back again, listening to harsh breathing, running his teeth along Killua’s flush skin, fingering the fleshy swells where rope meets skin. He keeps lingering over the ropes that cut into Killua’s pecks, emphasizing their roundness and shaping them into something more akin to a breast. He never took Gon as a “tit” guy, yet here he was kneading at the muscle with awestruck eyes, hungry and pinching. Killua can't help but release a breathy laugh, peering at him through the mirror, practically seated in Gon’s lap. He shivers at the warm tongue laving across his neck, blunt nails digging into his sides. Gon’s hands always dip just below Killua’s v, but never fully make it to his cock, stopping just short of the base. Killua's hips begin to shift in a futile effort, attempting to chase any sort of sustained contact. His mouth falls open with a groan, watching Gon's lidded eyes from the reflection of the mirror. The possessive look stirs something inside Killua, thick and low and hot, sweeping over him like a monsoon that provides so little relief. Gon’s erection strains against his ass cheek, clothed in gray joggers and painfully far away from his reach. He breathes, just keeps breathing, feeling the rope press into his burning flesh, more apparent than before now that they stand in the way of his access to Gon. 

“Why are you so quiet, now, Killua?” Gon questions, resting his chin on Killua’s shoulder lightly. A smile grows, sweet as a spring wind. Gon’s fingers graze the blue strands pulling his folded arms behind him, palm to the opposing elbow, and tucked against the curve of his spine. 

Killua shuts his eyes, shuts his mouth. Whatever he has to say dies on his lips as Gon ups the intensity with the push of a button, this time the intervals are shorter, vibrations harsher, making his cock jump in reaction. His head sags forward, a strained grunt leaves his lips each time the vibrator starts back up again. Gon grips his jaw, guiding his head upwards, so that he can watch his reflection. “Look, Killua.”

He opens his screwed eyes and doesn’t know what to think. It’s not the sensation of the vibrations that shocks him, it's the sight of how helpless he looks leaning against Gon for support, hardly able to reign in his expression, pinched and flushed crimson. He doesn’t remember when he got this hard, but he can see his dick stand proudly against wiry white pubes, see his mussed bangs fall into his eyes as his thighs flex. A stuttered moan falls from his lips. He can take this. He can. He has to because after the first dry orgasm he will no longer be in control, coherent. Which, in hindsight, is probably what Gon wants. He won’t give him the satisfaction no matter how tightly coiled his groin becomes. Gon runs his fingers though Killua’s hair absently, humming each time Killua cannot suppress the violent twitch of his of muscles. They rise and fall, defining his protruding veins in the natural light filtering in through the window; it only seems to emphasize the baby blue rope he’s fighting against futilely. His cock hangs untouched, without friction as violent pulses send shocks of pleasure through his system. They leave him numb and sensitive at the same time. 

He vaguely recalls his fantasy, the distinct memory of what they discussed floats somewhere nearby. While he’d be perfectly fine getting off while Gon holds him to his chest, he wants something else to pair with his binds, something warm. 

“I wanna suck your dick.” His voice comes out thin, challenged.

“I think you said you wanted to be ‘spit roasted,’ actually,” Gon responds, mirth in his eyes. He can trace every little pulse of skin including Killua’s shiver at the mention of that particular conversation. Killua can still feel the phantoms of Gon’s hand wrapped tightly around the base of his skull from their last endeavor when Gon coaxed a dildo down his throat until Killua writhed brainlessly, gasping for air.

“If you remember, then come fuck me,” Killua grits, absolutely bratty because he knows the kind of response he’ll get. Gon removes himself so quickly Killua almost topples over, having grown used to the sturdy man behind him, supporting him. He can’t see Gon through the glass at first, but can hear him rummaging through their box. He _can_ feel Gons fingers graze his skull, tangle in his hair, yank his head to meet his eyes. He’s crouching, holding Killua’s gaze, daring him. 

“Don’t worry about that, Killua, I’m gonna to fuck you when I think you’re ready,” Gon promises in his ear, pulling. “Hold this,” he says, placing a thoroughly coated dildo into Killua’s hand. It’s the yellow one with the ridges. He has to reach around to give it to him. “Don’t drop it.” 

Gon squeezes Killua’s balls with slick fingers, smashes his mouth against Killua’s, quieting his groans. A hand trails up Killua’s shaft, barely applying any pressure as Gon swipes lube from the base to the tip, evenly coating the cock ring in the process. Killua’s breath quickens despite himself, watching Gon’s face as he toys with the head of his cock, rolling a warm palm over the tip. He takes a knee, allowing Killua to lean into his shoulder. Killua bucks into the open palm shallowly with his limited range of motion, forced to use muscles he hasn’t in so long that they protest openly. He has to hunch since Gon is shorter than him and the ropes pull at his arms, his chest, the knot unwavering as he releases a whine into Gon’s shoulder. Everything is tight: his stomach, the ropes, his muscles; his skin hot to the touch as he chases the friction of Gon’s palm sliding against his cock. It throbs when Gon squeezes the base before continuing his lazy, underhanded handjob. The vibrations whirr loudly in his ears, even louder against his prostate. He presses his lips to the base of Gon’s bare sternum, moaning quietly when Gon picks up the pace; cock prickling with the desire to release. Instead, he shudders, crying into the space between his mouth and Gon’s chest as his first dry orgasm threatens him like a speeding truck, worsened when Gon removes his hand before Killua can finish, pinching at the fat of his thighs harshly, drawing out a muted cry. The vibrator shuts off shortly, the silence pounding in his ears is almost as loud as his heart beat. His thigh muscles instantly relax, but his cock still aches with the need to release, hindered by the ring clamping at his balls. He wiggles his toes, attempting to steady his breath.

“You— that—”

“You dropped the dildo,” Gon states. “Is your grip okay?”

“That is _not_ why you stopped, you asshole,” he groans, nipping at Gon’s salty skin. He hopes it hurts. 

“No, but it’s good to know,” Gon says, reaching so he can observe the color of Killua’s fingers the millionth time. He separates Killua from his chest with a hand on either cheek, kissing Killua’s frown away. 

“My grip is fine,” Killua responds, trying to erase the frustration from his voice. “Just fine,” he grits, when Gon rewards him with a slap on the ass, crawling on all fours until he’s behind Killua again.

Killua hisses when Gon pulls the vibrator out of his ass. He misses it, he’s relieved; the absence is a good promise, he hopes. Gon traces his skin before grabbing the base of rope fixed at his lower back and hoisting Killua purposefully so that the pale columns of rope dig into his thighs and chest; his world view is a little slanted and his cock aches with each non-committal scrape of rope against his chest. Gon practically holds all his weight, lowering him until his chest and stomach rest over the mound of pillows keeping him almost horizontal. Gon purchased them specifically for their play. Killua peeks at his reflection, unable to see much besides the curve of his ass pointed in the air, the thick knots decorating his lower back, Gon’s eyes roving over his skin. He’s going to be covered in red lines after this. 

“Are you going to hang me up or something,” Killua snarks, very much aware of how empty his hole is, angled perfectly for Gon’s mouth in his opinion. 

“Not today, I would’ve told you. I just wanted you to know that I could.” 

“Cheeky.”

“Slut.” Killua’s expression falters; the word sends a lilt to his gut so fierce, he doesn’t know what to make of it. His dick certainly does, however. The look they share is pointed, blistering just like the flush blooming along Killua’s cheeks. It’s not like he would chew Gon out when he’s the one who gave him the idea, anyway. Killua doesn't get a chance to linger in his affectionate pride at Gon’s “progress,” nor his conflicted reaction, interrupted by a broad palm applying pressure to his lower back.

“Be still,” Gon warns, bringing shears into view through the looking glass. With a metallic swish and the loud crunch of hemp, Gon slices through the rope tying Killua’s thigh cuffs together. He flexes his thighs experimentally, surprised by his new found freedom. He’s not sure if he missed it or not, but it certainly makes it easier when Gon rights him upward. He steadies Killua so that he’s crouched just as Gon was minutes earlier, balancing on the balls of his feet. He’s uneasy on stiff legs, having held the same position for quite some time. He shifts carefully, testing his range of motion, his balance as Gon circles him, shifting their blankets to plant the suction cups dildo against the floor with a hard plap. 

“If you complain that it’s cold, I’m not touching your dick,” says Gon from behind, still carrying his momentum from earlier. Killua can feel the cold tip of the dildo beneath him, prodding the underside of his ass and thigh. He huffs defiantly. This isn’t what he’d envisioned, but he doesn’t say a word. “Sit on it. Or do you need help?” Killua sneers, biting on the inside of his cheeks as he wobbles, raising himself before sinking down on the slick, cool plastic beneath him. Gon forgets that Killua is no stranger to having his range of motion limited, familiar with the light burn of his psoas muscles and the inability to balance with his arms. His breath catches when the curved ridges brush against his prostate one after the other on the way down. He stops sinking when his breathing begins to quicken. 

“You look really good like that, Killua,” Gon confesses, as if he wasn’t the one who decorated him this way. “How do you feel?” He smoothes a hand over the hard planes of Killua’s back.

“I feel like I’m going to lose my erection.”

“No, you’re not. You like when I look at you like this. You’ve been hard this entire time.” It’s not a lie. Killua’s glans is swollen and red, still pointed towards the mirror Gon set in front of him. “You don’t have to be shy. I know what you like, how hard you get when I tell you how good you look taking my cock.” Killua releases a shaky breath he didn't know he was holding, swallowing fruitlessly when Gon roughly squeezes at the underside of his thighs. His throat is dry, his hands twitching against his elbows, self conscious and wanting and very aware of the truth in Gon’s heated words. They scorch his skin, tie his insides into knots rivaling those that bind him. He cranes his neck, mewling into the open mouthed kiss Gon offers him, sucking at his lip until Gon openly groans into the heated kiss. There are small ways he can make up for his immobile arms. But, the contact’s gone much too soon and he bites back a plaintive sigh when Gon rises to his feet. 

He doesn’t complain, however, because Gon is finally removing his pants, exposing thick thighs and his erection. Killua bites his lip, wanting to run his hands over the familiar grooves of muscle, nibble at the cute mole on Gon’s pelvis. But Gon has a better idea, blocking Killua’s view of himself in the mirror as he presents his cock by smearing precum along his bottom lip. Killua laps at the salty head, knowing Gon is watching. He ghosts his lips across the clean skin wetly, putting on a show as he stares into hazel eyes.

“You want me to do all the work around here,” he complains sarcastically, grasping at what semblance of control he has left on the situation. Gon chuckles quietly, holding himself at the base so Killua can suck him off. Killua swallows him down with practiced ease, leaning forward until his nose nestles amongst coarse black pubes, almost falling onto his knees in the process. The dildo presses directly into his prostate when he catches himself with his own shoulder against Gon’s thigh with a grunt. Gon seems to be enjoying watching him struggle, offering minimal help outside of a steadying hand on his other shoulder. Killua wiggles to regain his footing and forces himself to sink lower onto the plastic cock in his ass. No sooner than he regains his balance, does Gon press the thick glans to the back of Killua’s throat, with a pleased hum.

“Ride it while you suck me off,” Gon commands leisurely, voice even despite the blood filling out his cock in Killua’s mouth. Killua groans when Gon pulls away, breathing in as much oxygen as possible as he sinks lower on the yellow appendage stretching him open. The wet squelch of his asshole being stretched open makes them both shiver. Gon only gives him a short moment before he guides Killua’s mouth back to his dick, watching as he laps at the frenulum on unsteady feet, thighs beginning to burn from being stiff for so long then put to work. He let’s Gon use his face, his head tilted backward to allow Gon’s cock to slide down his throat agonizingly slow. The only thing keeping him from falling on his face or his ass is Gon’s hand on either slide of his head, keeping him up as the grooves of plastic run across his prostate shooting waves of pleasure over his already sensitive insides. His breath spills from his nostrils as he moans around Gon’s dick, hot and quaking and drooling 

Gon wipes away the dribble of saliva forming at the corners of his mouth, thrusting shallowly, staring with so much adoration that Killua screws his eyes shut; the sum of him cast in too many directions to focus on the intimacy of this moment. If he does, his knees might give out and he’s transfixed on giving Gon something for his hard work and dedication. Killua finds that spit roasting is a little different than he’d imagined it, sloppier; the task of pleasuring Gon seems impossible when he can hardly breathe, hardly bob along with Gon’s quickening thrusts. He regrets that Gon even looked at him like that because now, all he wants is for Gon to bury his cock down his throat until he yells. Instead, he can only focus on the unsteady brush of the cock him his ass, his own hunched form making the squeeze tighter than normal and more insistent when the ridges press into him making his skin jump. He tries his best anyway, sucking Gon down when he isn’t whimpering around the leaking head. This time, he does shift in the ropes, finding that they don’t budge despite the flex of his muscles. Instead, he’s met with friction and the salty taste of precum hitting the back of his throat.

“Killuaaa, you shouldn’t do that,” Gon chastises, removing himself completely from the warmth of Killua’s mouth. “Keep going, though. You’re doing so good,” he coos, letting his dick fall downward, trailing saliva in its wake. He grips at the base of rope, a thick bundle of knots attached to Killua’s chest harness, providing a welcome anchor. Killua won’t say it but Gon knows in the way the curve of his hips soften and ease that he needed some sort of relief. Killua dives back in, using his newfound leverage to take aim at Gon’s dripping cock. Instead, Gon tilts his hips away, letting Killua run face first into his thigh.

“I didn’t say right now. Are you that hungry for my cock,” Gon murmurs, unimpressed as he slathers the head across Killua’s cheek. Killua fixes his lips to respond, interrupted by a heady smack of Gon’s cock against his cheek. It takes him a moment to process the sensation.

“Did you just—” 

“Yes.” 

Killua blinks, feeling as though he should be offended. Instead, a quiet thrill shoots through him. He sticks his tongue out experimentally, seeking brown eyes. He’s rewarded a smile and three more smacks against the plush of his cheek. Gon rolls his hips forward, running the underside of cock along Killua’s tongue without ever inserting it into his mouth, content just to smear saliva across his lips and part of his nose. Gon presses further until his balls catch on Killua’s waiting lips. Killua takes one of the balls into his mouth, suckling lightly as he kneads one with his mouth, then the other, diving his head lower until he’s wetting Gon’s taint, barely grazing Gon’s hole with the tip of his tongue. Gon’s turned hip out, a socked foot resting on Killua’s overworked thigh, providing a more opportune angle for Killua to lap at him, applying as much pressure as he can muster by craning his neck. Gon’s balls tighten, heavy and full as they slip in and out of Killua’s mouth, catching on Killua’s teeth the way he knows Gon likes it. Gon’s quiet praise vibrates through the air in thick hushed whispers and encouragements. Killua pauses for air, not realizing he stopped moving all together, happy to have gained some sort of leverage even if only for a moment, but it’s fleeting.

“Why did you stop?” Gon asks, applying downward pressure to Killua’s straining thighs, the same ones that barely hold him still over the yellow plastic lodged in his ass. He puts Killua’s flexibility to the test, the sloppy blow job abandoned in favor of watching Killua sink on the appendage. A quiet whimper passes when Gon forces more of his weight down onto the thickening ridges, more urgent and pressing as he sinks closer to the base of the yellow plastic. Killua’s knees scream, beginning to tremble when Gon lets up his foot, earning a relieved sigh from Killua whose skin is glistening with sweat by this point.

“You’re supposed to be watching yourself. Not me.” Gon tacks, stepping away from where his back shielded Killua from the mirror. “C’mon, Killua.” Gon urges as Killua rises from the deep, aching squat Gon pushed him into, inch by inch, caught against the unyielding ribs and rope that won’t let him steady himself even for a moment. 

He wants to curse at the idea of having to push himself up again, huffing but the time he reaches the tip again, but he knows Gon is watching him off to the side, patiently. He slams down both from stiffness and need, choking on a groan as he repeats the process over and over again. Each slam electrifies his skin, running over his entire body and clouding his mind. He’s really starting to regret ever purchasing the cock ring; he would’ve cum ages ago, otherwise. Instead, his cock weeps sullenly, and he’s wondering why he chases those sweet ribs running over his prostate so incessantly. They leave him arching into nothing, bowing his back, quietly calling Gon’s name like a mantra. It provides no relief at all. The only time Gon will touch him is to smooth the sweaty bangs from his eyes and tilt his head back towards the mirror to watch the long shaft of his toy disappear inside his quaking hole, filling him. He has long since given up on trying to use his arms to fight this battle, but his muscles sing like he’s just left the gym and his bouncing has turned into a mere roll that hardly does him any good. It can’t compare to the mind-numbing brushes against his prostate from earlier, but he’s so desperate, he swirls his hips anyway, teasing himself as eyes flutter shut. His muscles twitch angrily, growing closer to their limit as he fruitlessly pursues his orgasm. A quiet growl rumbles in his chest, frustration the only thing encouraging his choppy movements. 

“Gon,” he chokes out, unable to recognize his own voice, unable to get off or even hide behind his bangs. “Just please fuck me. Please, make me cum.” He tries to ignore just how pathetic he sounds, completely ignores the mirror, craning his neck to look at Gon who toys apathetically with his own cock; it already glistens with lube. 

“You want to?” Gon asks, biting at his lip as he runs a hand over his balls. Killua nods, blinking back salty tears. He removes his hands from his cock. “Okay, let me borrow this,” Gon says, unclamping the cock ring from Killua’s aching dick. Killua hisses at the tiny bit of contact. Once again, he’s being maneuvered, this time so that cushions press against his stomach and lower abs, sending his hips into the cold air. Blood rushes to his skull which rests against the down comforter. His dick is caught between the weight of his body and the scratchy cushions. He’s literally ass up from this angle, turned away from the mirror, gratefully. He doesn’t want to see himself tip over the edge, the weak tears swimming in his eyes. Gon threads their fingers together momentarily, watching as Killua squeezes on instinct at this point. Killua doesn’t know what’s taking so long, doesn’t know why Gon won’t just fuck him already. That is, until he feels cool, wet lube pouring onto his overheated skin, smearing onto his hole, his ass cheeks, even his thighs. Fucking Gon. 

Gon pulls his ass cheeks apart, slippery and sore from being overworked. A long groan resounds as he presses past the ring of muscle at a snail’s pace, spurred on by Killua’s heat. Gon is both girthier and longer, uninhibited by the flexibility of Killua’s hamstring and achilles, sinking all the way to the hilt, fully seated inside. Killua’s hands flex, gripping at nothing as he’s stretched even deeper than before. Unlike the rigid plastic, Gon enters him smoothly, molding his insides as he strokes, rolling his hips mildly while Killua adjusts. Each time he parts Killua’s insides, a wet squelch floods the room, lube smearing onto his pelvis and thighs when he increases his pace with a curse, listening to Killua croon into the comforter. 

Killua is numb from exerting his muscles, needy from being edged both Gon and himself, shaky. He’s so overwhelmed by the tide of sensations pulling at him, scattering his concentration and glazing his eyes over. The beginnings of exhaustion grow on him, spotty and emanating from his thighs to his rib cage, making it so much easier to simply give in when Gon manervers him how he pleases. In spite of it all, the arousal is still poignant, loud and hammering at his nerves. It grows more demanding with each thrust; Gon's cock working his insides like a well-oiled machine, aimed perfectly after years of practice and stretching him open delightfully. He yearns for relief from the twinge in his gut; his dick is heavy, pulsing from being erect for so long. Gon squeezes it lightly, before situating the leaky cock between Killua’s slicked thighs. Gon then presses his thighs back together, how they were when they first began sans the thigh cuffs to bind them together. 

“Don’t move. Keep them closed,” he whispers, before he continues fucking his tight heat. Killua can’t do anything but react, hiding his sweaty face into the pillows as he offers Gon his ass, choking down a sob and clutching his own elbows, seeking solace. Gon’s cock drags against him, as he’s pinned down and fucked open. Lube spills onto his weak thighs and Gon’s hips snap against him loudly, making him ache in untouched places when his boyfriend ruts into him, more akin to an animal than a person. Gon had been holding his self control on a leash for at least two hours now, living out Killua’s fantasies and requests like a good partner and now the last of his restraint fall away as he fucks him with abandon, holding Killua’s hips steady as he squirms, wanton and high-strung. Killua bites down on the pillow beneath his lips, listening to his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He loves when Gon fucks him like this, using his hole like his own personal flesh light. Gon holds Killua steady, pounding into him sloppily with a hand on each hip. He mutters absolute filth, groping at swollen flesh while he tells Killua how pretty his hole is. His clenches needily, sucking Gon in, only satisfied when he picks up his pace, neglecting any semblance of patience or gentleness.

It doesn’t take long after Gon begins; the overly familiar tightening of Killua’s stomach is so abrupt that he isn’t even ready, doesn’t know what hit him. He just knows he can’t move against the ropes, that the knots that have been holding him together are steady, but his own seams are coming undone— ragged, overworked, and desperate. He sobs Gon’s name into the pillows, hole convulsing as he’s milked dry, chest arching against the cushion as hips bucking mildly, struggling. He empties himself until he’s spongy and weak and very aware of Gon's thick cock still working his hyper-sensitive walls. Gon removes himself from Killua’s warmth when he begins to keen, snatching off the cock ring as he pants into the open air, wedging his cock between Killua’s thighs and knocking Killua’s softening length with his own in the process. There’s so much cum and lube smeared along the soft skin that it doesn’t take him long to reach his own climax, cumming between trembling thighs with a shout. His cum drips between Killua’s legs, mingling with Killua’s own. 

Killua doesn’t realize he has fresh tears in his eyes until Gon's making him flex his arms and fingers and he can’t see so blinks them away, doing what Gon says because he’s a little dizzy after being pointed towards the ground and having trouble processing anything because he's still so sensitive. But he knows Gon is taking the shortcut, chopping at the ropes with steady hands, massaging at his muscles, inspecting his arms methodically as he comes down from his high. He pushes himself up begrudgingly, taking in the sight of the red lines mapping the planes of his skin, shaped strikingly similar to the diamonds knotted against his flesh moments earlier.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes, trailing a finger across his abdomen. His skin is painted in purples and developing reds. Of course, he’d seen pictures of other people’s rope marks, decorating intricate patterns into overworked skin. These, however, were tangible, marring his own pale skin, each imprint of cord traceable with the pad of his finger. The indentations leave a rhythmic pattern, perfectly outlining the shape of his chest harness, two large diamonds etched into his skin preciously. He runs his fingers across his chest, leaving a tingling sensation in his wake. His breathing grows heavy at the mild discomfort, confused by his body’s reaction to the slight pain— a conglomeration of warning and heat that makes his stomach dip. He doesn’t want to think about what this means now that he’s grounded in reality, boneless, exhausted, but it's unavoidable. His breathing hitches when Gon swipes at the lube covering his ass and thighs with a slightly damp towel. His palm presses firmly into thigh imprints left by the thigh cuffs, swiping at the thick slick. Killua shudders involuntarily when Gon begins massaging arnica cream into the worst of the rope bite, a quiet, half-whispered whimper escaping his mouth.

“Killua, let me finish,” Gon complains in his ear, tugging on his lobe with blunt teeth. The mindless massaging and tender movements come more naturally to Gon than words ever could; Killua knows it's a tiny thing like tidying up sheets on paper on the desk or swiping away a stray eyelash, but it feels like the world to him. Gon’s palm presses firmly into the imprints just under his asscheeks, forbearing but confident with each stroke of his thumb across tender flesh. The hiss that follows isn’t one derived from pain. Gon smiles, a heady grin that sends Killua’s blood soaring. It’s a knowing smile. The nape of his neck prickles in goosebumps when Gon passes a hand over the soft skin, pulling Killua into a kiss as he continues kneading at his flesh. Does Gon know that Killua’s grip on himself is already so frail and insubstantial, hardly in control of the occasional shiver of his thigh or even the weak croon in the back of his throat. He’s embarrassed, clinging to Gon tightly now that he’s free from the restraints, so happy to rollhis palms across Gon’s torso and dive his fingers into the coarse strands of hair. He can’t even help himself when Gon deliberately presses into the grooves embellishing his skin, arching weakly, drawn to Gon’s touch like gravity pulls them together, like Gon’s hands were made to touch him. A balloon grows inside his chest steadily, his flaccid cock confused and jumping by the time Gon’s lips make it to his groin, scooping Killua’s thighs up so that they frame Gon’s face as he likes tentative stripes across Killua’s pitiful excuse for an erection.

“Gon, I don’t think I’m ready. I’m not sure I can,” sentences errant and trailing as Gon takes him into his mouth. He’s vaguely aware that he’s babbling nonsense into the air, a hoarse cry tumbling out of his mouth when Gon takes him fully into his mouth. Tremors wrack his body like fallen leaves in the wind. Gon is the trunk that holds him in place, the only thing rooted as his head swims, thoughts completely muted by the swipe of Gon’s tongue. He prods at his own pebbled nipple, the skin red and still so engorged with blood. Gon has taken to pressing into his thighs, coaxing awfully high pitched sounds from him as his presses Killua’s glans angst the warm heat of his cheek, only continuing his bobbing motion when Killua yanks on his hair. His hips roll erratically as he nears his end, crashing back to the earth as he stills, hardly releasing anything into Gon’s waiting mouth as his body stiffens abruptly and toes curling aimlessly. The guttural moan leaving his mouth is downright unattractive; he seizes twice before flopping onto the carpet, feeble and wan and shivering in short spurts. He cries out when Gon removes him from his mouth, dazed and too sensitive to make sense of much else besides Gon moving to hug him close to his chest. Gon laps into his mouth, and he can taste him on the flat of his tongue, blindly kissing him back. He pulls away after a while, breathing ragged and finally beginning to slow.

“These imprints,” he begins, still soothing Killua as his shivers begin to subside. “They look so nice. They feel good, right?” Gon asks, hopeful and quiet. Killua presses a sweat soaked forehead to Gon’s, nodding. 

“You feel good.” Gon beams, a white light brighter than anything he could ever imagine. 

“Cold shower?” Gon asks. 

“No, God, that sounds awful.”

“It’ll feel really nice,” Gon responds in a sing-song voice as if that would encourage Killua to change his mind. 

“My foot up your ass would feel really nice, too.” 

“Mean.”

“Dumbass.”

“Slut.” A loud crack resounds when Killua slams his head directly into Gon’s. It’s not the worst decision he’s ever made— the worst decision would be telling Gon about his shame kink— but man, does it sting like a bitch.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm here for Killua's Megan thee Stallion grade knees. Thank you for reading <3
> 
> follow me on twt @timeloan_


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